


Hibiscus and Heather

by LittleGreenBudgie



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleGreenBudgie/pseuds/LittleGreenBudgie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's never anything other than smiles and laughs with them, his glass half-full and hers half-empty as both try desperately not to count down the remaining time left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hibiscus and Heather

                They met when her bay mare started to nibble on his hair in the courtyard in Laus.  She laughed lightly as he danced back and eyed the horse suspiciously, but then she apologized, and he forgave both her and the horse.  He liked her then and there, because she didn’t make fun of his reaction or his woefully crooked smile, and he promised that he’d talk to her later.

                They lay on their backs in the summer fields around Caelin and watched the clouds meander across the sky.  She saw all sorts of shapes in them and pointed them out, and he didn’t quite see what she was saying but he nodded anyway.  Then he told her the names of the birds that flew above them, and if he wasn’t completely sure, well, she wasn’t either, and it didn’t matter all that much.

                They waited on the edge of the docks of Badon, their feet in the cool seawater and a salty breeze toying with strands of their hair.  She mentioned that she used to sit like this on the edges of a lake with her brother, and he said that he once fell into a river near his home and been bitten by some sort of angry fish.  She smiled, and he chuckled sheepishly, shrugging as she leaned over and splashed a little water on him.  He grinned and reached into the water, only to overbalance and fall in, coughing and spluttering and knowing it wasn’t her fault at all.

                They rocked with the waves on the deck of the pirate ship, with her handing him a mug of ginger tea as he slumped pathetically over the rail.  He muttered that if he got out of this alive, he was never going near a boat ever again, and she only sympathetically nodded and patted him on the back, deciding not to mention that they’d have to sail to get back to the mainland.  He asked how she was still even standing and she admitted that boats never bothered her and it was only her horse—and him—that she was worried about.

                They stared at the enormous, flame-wreathed presence of the dragon, and she grabbed his hand hard enough for him to lose feeling in it.  He was barely able to keep standing on his own, though, so he didn’t mind.  The realization that either of them could die seemed very real and very unwelcome right then, and he tightened his own grip and vowed to shape up so that it would never, ever happen.

                They sat in the inn of Badon, the light of the dying fire sending shadows dancing across his face.  They both stared into the coals with thoughtful expressions, his drink half full and hers half empty.  She asked him quietly what he would do after this was over, and he shrugged and said that he didn’t know and didn’t want to think about it.  Now, he said, voice hushed in the late hour, was all that he could think about.  She rested her head on his shoulder and he jumped so much that he spilled his drink all over the floor.  It was two gold coins that he considered worth far more than just a lousy beer, all things considering.

                They trudged wearily through Nabata, the hot sun sweating any thoughts of small talk out of both of them.  She had a spare piece of cloth draped over her head and shoulders to keep the sun off, and he had peeling skin from sunburn and his shoes full of sand.  She asked him if he’d like to ride pillion with her.  He’d awkwardly clambered onto her horse’s back and slid his arms around her waist, hesitantly wondering if she minded.  The proximity to her far outweighed the discomfort of the extra heat.

                They slept under the Nabata stars, long after the pink fire of desert sunset had faded.  It was shocking that a place hot enough to cause one to pass out during the day could freeze someone to the bone at night.  His cheeks flushed as his mind fed him overly welcome images of sleeping by her side to protect her from the cold, but he instead settled for giving her his blanket and a promise that he’d be fine.

                They slogged through Bernian snow that seemed endless, with him breaking a path for her and the tired mare she led.  He thought that they might start up a snowball fight when they stopped to make camp.  She replied by dumping an armful of snow over his head, causing him to yelp and fall into a snowbank.  She pulled him out with a chuckle and an apology, and he grinned and said that he had been feeling a little warm anyway.

                They camped outside the Shrine of Seals, not allowed to go inside the mystical building lost in time.  She brushed her horse and quietly sang a tune that hadn’t been popular for nearly a decade, but he could only smile because he’d never heard it to begin with.  He whistled along as he learned the beat, until they were both singing with silly grins on their faces, her horse forgotten by both as they danced in the shadows of the Bern mountains.

                They rested in Castle Ostia, sitting on a garden swing and watching everyone else go by.  She crossed her legs and he idly rocked the swing back and forth with his toes, the sunshine-yellow butterflies fluttering around hibiscus and lilac.  She picked a sprig of white heather and tucked it behind his ear, quietly saying that it was for good luck.  He kissed her on the cheek, murmuring that she needed good luck, too.

                They hesitated on the threshold of Dragon’s Gate, remembering acutely the horror from the last time they’d been there.  They each looked at each other, promising wordlessly to make it out alive, before they were assigned to different divisions of the fighting force and told to prepare.  He shyly waved goodbye, and she waved back with a smile on her face.

                They stayed awake under the fog that made telling night from day nigh impossible in a place like Valor.  He sat by her side on a log by the ashes of the fire and neither spoke a word.  They both knew that, with the war over, any day they would have to go their separate ways and return to where they belonged.  He wanted to ask her to run away with him, but he knew that she would only pine away in his homeland and that he would not be wanted in hers.  He put his arm around her shoulders and vowed that he wouldn’t leave a day before he had to.

                They shared a dance during the postwar celebration, with the only music provided by those of their comrades that could sing or play an instrument.  It was already night, with brilliant Lycian stars shining above them and the bright glow of the festive bonfire bathing everything in smoky light.  His head was a little muddled with the alcohol, which flowed freely for any that wanted it, but his two left feet were cooperating, for once.  As the song ended and someone else came to ask her for a dance, he kissed her, to the applause of their comrades.  He turned to leave, face flushed, but she pulled him back by the hand and kissed him again.  Each knew that each moment was precious and that time was slipping too quickly out of their hands.

                They breathed their farewells after a messenger bird requested her presence back home.  He held her close and promised that this wouldn’t be the last time she saw him, and she slipped a letter into his hand, tears prickling their eyes.  He mounted the horse the she’d given him as a present, riding off before he had to see her cry…or she had to see him do the same.

                He heaved a sigh as he sat in a stiff-backed chair in a tavern in some dot-on-the-map town.  He sipped at his drink and wished that she was there to crack a joke or just sit by him, and he wore a wistful, crooked smile that she wasn’t there to not make fun of.  He’d meant what he said about her not seeing the last of him, though.  The crumpled letter that rested on the table in front of him held his full attention, and he could only smile.  Once he learned how to read, he’d know what she wanted him to.  All he was sure of now was what the characters on the front of the message spelled out.

                G-u-y.


End file.
